Page 57 of The Bright Side of Christmas
“Tell me what you want, Wren, or we’ll be here all fucking night.” There’s a plea in his voice, and some primal part of me wants nothing more than to please him, to give him whathewants.
Then I realize that what he wants is to give me whatIwant. Our needs and wants form a perfect circle. He wants to give me what I need, and I want to do the same. I push back the hint of embarrassment that still lingers and shout out the answer.
“My clit! I need you to rub my clit.”
“That’s my fucking girl,” he grits out, then a hand leaves my hip one last time, sliding forward toward my belly and strumming my clit. It’s oversensitized, and I’m already so close to the edge that it just takes a few firm swipes before I’m tumbling, falling hard and fast. Stars shoot behind my eyes as Iscream his name, as my body quakes, pleasure shooting through me with such ferocity, I wonder if I black out for a moment. But I force myself to stay on this planet when I feel his fingers tighten on my hip, when I feel him slam deep.
I love nothing more than witnessing and feeling Adam come, and I’m not going to miss that. I glance over my shoulder to see his head tipped back, divine rapture written on his face as he calls out my name like I am the end-all and the be-all of all things good in his life, and he fills me. I continue to watch as his grip loosens, as his shoulder muscles slacken, and as he blinks, and then comes back to this planet.
He looks down at me, the very edges of his lips tipping up as he looks at me with entertained awe, as if I make his world turn.
“Was that so hard?”
Then I burst out laughing.
“I don’t know how much longer I can do this, Adam,” I say with a groan. His head snaps up to look at me, hunched over some of the sturdy construction paper as he cuts out one of the paper Santa hats that we’ll glue to a popsicle stick as a photo prop with snail-like speed.
It was after I came home from work and went to my place to drop off my things and grab the photobooth material. After Adam showed up at my front door and insisted on carrying all of it over himself. When I protested, he gave me a hard kiss and told me to pick out some sleep clothes for the night, and that was all I was allowed to carry. Long after he decided he needed to have me the second I walked into his house, and long after dinner, which consisted of pasta and homemade garlic bread.Now the photo backdrop is finished, and we’re working on the final props together.
“We’re almost done,” he says. “I know I’m slow, but?—”
I laugh and shake my head, then brush the lips I’m gluing to a popsicle stick off my lap onto the coffee table.
“No, no. Not that. Honestly, I got more done than I anticipated with your help, so I can wrap it up and finish tomorrow.” I’m done working on these tonight. Right now, I just want to spend the night with Adam. I put on my sternest expression before I relay my next demand. “But I can’t deal with your place. If you’re going to want me to spend nights here, we’re going to have to liven this place up.”
He lifts an eyebrow at me, then reaches over to where I sit on the couch and tugs me, maneuvering me until I’m straddling his hips.
“Oh?”
There’s a hint of a smile on his lips, which makes me feel more at ease with continuing.
“Yes! It's dead in here. I get it, you hate Christmas, blah blah blah…but you don't even have normal decorations. And you don’t have a tree! I struggle to spend long periods in December in a house without a tree. I only get so long to enjoy them,” I pout, and he laughs, gripping my waist and moving me once more until I’m on my back on his couch with his body hovering over me. He leans down to press a sweet kiss to my lips before pulling back and taking in my face.
“You want me to get a tree, baby?” he asks softly. My eyes go wide, and excitement races through my veins as I nod. “Then let's go get me a tree.” I squeal with excitement and clap. He lets out a laugh before he turns both of us so we’re lying side by side on the couch. His hand moves up, tucking a strand of hair back, and I plant a hand on his chest. “You seem excited by that.”
“You have no idea. Okay, so I prefer real trees, obviously. A fake one is almost sacrilege in my family, but if you don’t want to deal with the cleanup, I’ll endure a fake one so long as it’s pre-lit.”
“Wren, if I’m getting a tree to make you happy, we’re getting the kind you want.” My eyes go wide with disbelief.
“Really?”
‘Yeah, baby. Really.”
“Can we go now?” I ask, trying to stand up, but his hands tighten their hold on me, and he laughs, shaking his head.
“It’s after nine at night, babe. I don’t think anywhere is open.” I groan, and he laughs at it, but I don’t feel any kind of embarrassment, just excitement. “We’ll go tomorrow,” he says. “Got anything going on?”
Tomorrow is Saturday, and for the first time in a long time, I haven’t offered to do anything tomorrow. Not a fundraiser, not something for the school, not a favor to a friend or a friend of a friend.
I got asked, for sure. In fact, as I was headed out the door today, I was asked by Mrs. Crowley if I could babysit tomorrow. I almost said yes, but I remembered Adam’s eager look when I told him I’d do better at slowing down, and I recalled that I don't have to do everything for everyone. Instead of accepting, I gave her an apologetic look and told her I couldn’t. I felt immense guilt as I turned her down, especially when I technically didn’t have anything happening, but that evaporated when she shrugged like it was no big deal.
“No worries,” she said. “I’ll ask Jennie. Enjoy your weekend, Wren!”
She wasn’t mad at me.
She didn’t think I was selfish.
The world didn't collapse.
